


Happy Homes

by aprildaze



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, babysitting au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprildaze/pseuds/aprildaze
Summary: Snow is sticking to Kakashi's silver hair, half his face hidden behind the messily knit scarf he barely takes off once the weather hits sixty.  There’s nothing about his appearance that screams disheveled, but Yamato can’t ignore the twist of instinct insisting Kakashi is in trouble,deeptrouble.“Who’s Naruto?”(A Babysitting AU.)





	Happy Homes

_“I killed Naruto.”_

“Uh—” Yamato begins. Kakashi doesn’t let him get any further, clamping both hands on Yamato’s shoulders, one eye burning bright and the other somehow equally intimidating despite its unfocused list to the right.

“You have to help me,” he insists.

This has to be a mistake. Kakashi would never seek Yamato out outside of class. Kakashi would never ask around to find out where Yamato lives. Kakashi would never even know who to _ask_ to find out where Yamato lives.

“Help you with what?” he asks anyway, just in case he isn’t high or dreaming, and the senior literature major really is crowding his dormitory door.

“With Naruto,” Kakashi answers. Snow is sticking in his silver hair, half his face hidden behind the messily knit scarf he barely takes off once the weather hits sixty. There’s nothing about his appearance that screams disheveled, but Yamato can’t ignore the twist of instinct insisting Kakashi is in trouble, _deep_ trouble.

“Who’s Naruto?”

Kakashi steps back, his arms fall to his side and gifts Yamato the barest inch of breathing room. “Namikaze’s kid, spiky blonde, this tall,” he motions somewhere just below his knees. “Very loud. Very dead.”

Yamato winces, rubbing the back of his head.

“I can’t help you bury a body, Kakashi. I don’t think we’re those kind of friends.”

“But we are friends,” Kakashi answers, with more emotion than Yamato has heard in their whole year and half of tenuous acquaintanceship. He feels the heat rise in his cheeks, frustrating and ridiculous, even if his dark skin will hide the worst of it. 

“I know you’re good with kids,” Kakashi continues. “You babysit all the time, you even make Danzō’s kid laugh.”

“Sai?” Yamato had no idea Kakashi had seen them together. “I’m not, he’s, we’re, I just—” Kakashi is still looking at him with a nauseating mix of hope and anxiety. Yamato slumps. It suddenly feels like too much to explain. “Yeah, I’m good with kids.”

Kakashi reaches forward, clasping Yamato’s hands in his, voice low and serious behind the deep blue scarf. “Naruto is missing. I need you to help me find him, before it’s too late.”

Yamato yanks his hands back. “You lost a kid?”

“He ran away from me,” Kakashi snaps, but his eyes are bright. He’s not just angry — he’s afraid. “I, I fucked up. I need to find him before Kushina and Professor Namikaze come home or…”

“Or he’s hurt,” Yamato finishes, softly.

_I killed Naruto._

Of all the overdramatic— Yamato turns, swiftly grabbing his coat and shoving on the nearest pair of boots. “Alright Kakashi, I’ll help you. Where’s the last place you saw him?”

“Konoha Park,” Kakashi answers, watching Yamato squeeze a bright green beanie over his spiky brown hair. “Your hair used to be longer.”

Yamato shrugs, grabbing his gloves and shuffling around the mess on his desk in search for his ID and keys. “It was girly.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

Yamato glances up at Kakashi, but something about his expression is too earnest, and so Yamato clears his throat and looks away. In class the older student is always sharp and sincere in his answers; it follows that Kakashi is no different in private.

Yamato finds his keys, stuffing them in his pocket before following Kakashi into the hallway. He double-checks his door is locked because his roommate won’t be back from the chem library until late, probably even later than Yamato. He shakes his head: when Yukimi suggested Yamato find an excuse for some one on one time with Kakashi, he’s certain she never envisioned this.

“So, the park,” Yamato repeats, leading them to Senju Hall's nearest exit. The gender inclusive hall is usually one of the loudest dorms on campus, but this close to midterms, most students have settled down with their books. Yamato himself should probably be studying molecular biology instead Konoha’s favorite playgrounds. “Do you think Naruto is still there?”

The sun is setting but it’s still early enough in November for the snow to be light, not quite sticking to the ground. As they step outside he braces against the evening cold, wondering what kind of kid would pick _now_ to run away from their babysitter. As annoying as Kakashi Hatake can be, it would be much smarter to throw a temper tantrum in Spring, or even the wet slush season of late February and early March.

“He’ll be on the move,” Kakashi answers, seemingly unaffected by the weather. Maybe it’s the scarf. “I last caught up with him on the path into town. He’s quick but… small.”

Yamato falls back, letting Kakashi lead the way towards the main road. “It sounds like you know where to find him,” he hedges. “So what do you need me for?”

Kakashi shuffles, somehow managing to look unflappable and completely flustered. Or maybe — maybe it’s just that Yamato has come to know Kakashi better than either of them had planned.

“I need someone to convince him to come home,” he explains. “You may not know Naruto, but… if anyone can calm him down, it’s you.”

Yamato pulls himself in tighter, trying to hide inside his coat. If anyone else had tried to compliment Yamato as a calming person, he probably would have laughed, or at least told them off as crazy… Kakashi _is_ crazy, but crazy in a kind of way that’s hard to say no to.

“Didn’t know you liked kids so much,” he mutters.

Kakashi smiles. Well, behind the huge scarf Yamato can’t see the smile, but there’s a way Kakashi’s eyes crinkle, like his joy is so fleeting and precious that it has to light up his whole face, fragile as lightening.

“I don’t,” he answers, looking off down the road. The campus is beautiful at this time of night, half-lit by sunset and gold street lamps, more slumbering nature than boisterous undergraduates. At this moment, they could be the only people in the world, or at least, the only people besides a knee-size tyke willing to brave an evening walk in winter. “Naruto is special, almost like a little brother,” Kakashi sighs. “I certainly found him unbearably annoying at first like a little brother, but for a while… I guess you could say he was the only person with at a chance at making me laugh.”

Kakashi’s voice is soft, but Yamato isn’t fooled: he knows what happened to Kakashi’s father. 

“Naruto must be a special kid,” he says, gentle.

Kakashi’s smile returns. He leans in closer, bumping their shoulders together. Even through their coats, the contact leaves Yamato feeling warmer than he should.

“Maa, are you insinuating something about my sense of humor?”

Yamato snorts. “Only that it’s terrible,” he says. Kakashi plays along, letting out a long sigh and slipping further into his trademark slouch.

“And here I was, thinking I might have found someone to truly understand me…”

Yamato eyes Kakashi. “I understand you just fine, Hatake.” He would have been fooled if he hadn’t seen Kakashi pull the same voice on Gai, and Kurenai and Asuma. As it is, Yamato has already lost one too many homework assignments to the older student, who shamelessly takes advantage of Yamato’s good will and obsessive attention to class readings.

Not that Kakashi needs the help. He’s always setting the curve in class, unless Gai is setting the curve in class, in which case Kakashi is busy pretending not to care about being the best or second best in Japanese 301.

“Hm,” is Kakashi’s only answer — but the tone is warm, nearly a sound of assent with Yamato. Yamato smiles and for a moment it’s quiet between them, comfortable and light —

and these are the moments Yamato holds too close: the easy pace when they’re paired together in class, the gentle peace of their study room while Gai runs out for snacks, the quick moments when they pass each other and smile in the hall or the quad on the way to a meal or a nap

Yamato shakes his head, pressing a hand against the back of his head.

These are always the moments he wants to run away with.

“There.”

“Where?” Yamato asks, startled from his thoughts. They’re on the edge of town now, the main road diverging to head towards Konoha’s center or skirting along a darker, forested path.

Kakashi points ahead at the bright red awning of Ichiraku Ramen, famous for being the only East Asian restaurant to not be a strange East Asian fusion in the tiny college town.

Yamato is particularly fond of their dipping noodles.

“It’s Naruto’s favorite,” Kakashi explains, moving quicker now. He slips past a couple exiting the shop, who of course, Yamato nearly bowls over in his attempt to keep up. By the time he’s apologized and made it indoors himself, Kakashi is pushed up against the bar, speaking to the vibrant shop owner.

“— come by more often!”

Kakashi sort of shrugs, looking much like he did in Yamato’s hallway, focused and yet half ready to bolt for the door. 

“Maybe when midterms wrap up,” he hedges, glancing at Yamato as he squeezes in close: the shop isn’t busy, but Kakashi is standing and there’s not much room between the bar stools. Yamato doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it — Ayame’s caught his gaze, and seems a lot more interested in his sudden appearance and company than in the lone customer she’s pouring water for. “But I’m not actually here for Ramen.”

Teuchi’s brows rise so high so quickly that they appear swallowed by his chef’s hat.

“You’re not?”

Beside her father, Ayame grins, more predatory than friendly.

“Maybe dipping noodles?” she asks sweetly.

Yamato's eyes widen, face shadowed and fierce; he’s not about to let Ayame derail the conversation, even if she’s been one of his closest friends since childhood.

“No,” he answers for Kakashi. “We’re looking for someone. Naruto.”

“Naruto!” Teuchi exclaims. The chef makes a point to know all of Konoha’s Japanese students by name; it’s no surprise he’d extend the favor to the town’s smallest residents, too. “No, we haven’t seen our number one customer out tonight, have we, Ayame?”

Ayame frowns, setting down her pitcher of water. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, he’d be hard to miss,” Kakashi replies. Despite stepping indoors, most of his face is still hidden by his blue scarf, though Yamato can read the tension pulling at the edge of his eyes.

“I don’t _think_ so,” Ayame repeats. “But for a moment, I swore there was something bright and orange outside our window. It could have easily been Naruto and his jacket, except I’ve never known the Namikazes to be shy.”

Teuchi frowns, crossing his arms. “It’s not at all like him, to walk by but not say hello.”

Kakashi straightens, some of the tension fleeing.

“How long ago was this?”

“Definitely within the past half hour."

Kakashi turns to the door, as if even now he might be able to see echoes of a little boy standing outside his favorite restaurant. He quickly turns back, bowing slightly to Teuchi and his daughter.

“Thank you.”

“Is Naruto alright?” Teuchi asks.

Kakashi’s eyes crinkle, but this time the joy isn’t true.

“Just a little lost on the path of life,” he answers, wrapping his hand around Yamato’s wrist and tugging him towards the door. Ayame tries to mouth a question at Yamato as he’s half-dragged from the shop, but Yamato shakes his head and desperately wills her quiet.

They’ve barely made it outside when his phone buzzes — Yamato doesn’t need to check to know who’s frantically texting him questions. Kakashi lets go of Yamato’s wrist, crouching in front of the windows as if he might find clues scribbled against the brick wall. Yamato frowns, resting his hands on his hips.

“Kakashi—” he begins, about to berate the man for playing detective, but then he too notices the small footprints pressed into the light dusting of snow. They angle right, further into town, but are quickly lost amongst the tangle of foot traffic on the nearby sidewalk.

Kakashi isn’t following the tiny footprints.

He pauses, leaning forward to pluck something up from the ground, softly brushing the snow off a pale object hardly bigger than his palm. Yamato crouches beside him to see clearer what it is: a small, stuffed toy in the shape of a frowning pug.

“Pakkun,” Kakashi says, naming it.

“Does it belong to Naruto?” 

Kakashi does not answer, squeezing the toy tighter in his gloved hands.

Yamato hesitates. Kakashi has a way with silence, as if his refusal to speak is a refusal to hear Yamato, to feel the warmth from inside the shop, to see any of the people passing by them. Yamato hesitates, and then gently presses his hand against Kakashi’s shoulder. Kakashi shudders, then blinks, as if coming back from a place far away and shadowed.

“I… gave it to him. As a gift.”

Pakkun’s fur is worn with rough love and adoration. It’s clear that he was deeply cared for, up until the moment he was thrown away.

Kakashi carefully tucks Pakkun into his outer coat pocket, and even then, presses one hand over the shape as if cradling a loved one.

“I… thought he’d be here. He… he doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Kakashi,” Yamato squeezes his shoulder, leaning in closer as shelter and protection. “What happened with you and Naruto?”

Kakashi closes his eyes.

“It was stupid,” he answers, heavy and drawn. He opens his eyes again, right eye as unfocused as his left. “It was my fault.”

Yamato understands then, why Kakashi’s come knocking on his door instead of chasing directly after Naruto. He has no doubt a small, knee-high boy could be dragged home, kicking and screaming, by even a half-determined Kakashi; Yamato had once attended a judo tournament to cheer on his friend Hayate. Kakashi had been competing on the same day, and to see him fight was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

Kakashi isn’t afraid to fight for himself or what he believes in — Yamato never imagined he could be so hesitant around the people he loves, so careful to avoid their disapproval.

Yamato swallows, harshly reminded of his first year in Shimura’s home, always so careful to present himself as the perfect child to avoid being thrown away again.

“He’s only eight,” Kakashi continues. “And I told him he was ungrateful, that he deserved to be an orphan rather than have parents like Minato and Kushina, just because he got in a fight with Minato and kept saying—” Kakashi’s voice cuts out, but it’s too late, the tightness in his breath betraying the desire to cry.

“Kakashi,” Yamato presses, holding him closer. “It’s okay, you’re allowed to make mistakes—”

Kakashi’s whole body revolts, forcing Yamato’s arm away as he stands, body tense and trembling in the evening cold.

“ _No._ I’m supposed to look out for him, I’m supposed to protect him—”

Yamato stands, too; he’s only an inch shorter and meets Kakashi’s harsh gaze, refusing to let him turn away.

“You’re human, you’re allowed to make mistakes,” he wants to hold his friend again, but he knows gentleness isn’t what Kakashi wants or needs. “Your dad died. Of course you’re allowed to feel something when Naruto says hateful things about his own.”

“But he didn’t mean them—”

“You didn’t mean what you said, either.”

Yamato reaches out, taking Kakashi’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly so he knows he’s not alone.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers. “We’ll find him. We’ll make this right.”

Kakashi closes his eyes, but he doesn’t turn away.

“He’s not here,” Yamato prompts. “He’s not heading home. So where else would he go?”

Kakashi frowns, looking ahead, deeper into the village.

“If he’s not at Ichiraku, he’s avoiding people. He won’t be at Kogi Barbeque or Kishimoto Comics… and he’ll get lost if he tries to find Sasuke’s home.”

Yamato rubs the back of his head, gathering up all that’s been said about Naruto, bright and determined enough to be loved by Kakashi Hatake. There’s an appetite for ramen, the abandoned dog, his ability to make Kakashi laugh and the foolish drive to run away in winter.

“I don’t think he’s avoiding people,” Yamato says. “I think… he’s avoiding you.”

Kakashi’s eyes widen — Yamato is quick to continue.

“He came to Ichiraku, just like you said he would, but he didn’t come inside because he _knew_ you wouldn’t be far behind. Yes, he’s trying to hide, but only from you.”

Kakashi nods, slow and then quicker, dark eyes gleaming bright.

Suddenly, they’re both smiling.

“He’ll be hiding somewhere you hate,” Yamato says.

“Green Leaf Sweets,” Kakashi confirms.

Kakashi would rather accept a challenge eating four pepper curry with Gai than willing step into Konoha’s favorite candy store: Yamato has seen his friend gag even walking by the shop, overwhelmed by the sickeningly sweet scent of its goods.

Kakashi tugs Yamato forward, moving with renewed urgency now that Naruto again feels close. The night’s only gotten colder, and without the protection of the shop awning, Yamato is painfully reminded of the cutting chill of November wind.

But being near Kakashi takes some of the winter’s bite away

so they stay close, walking quickly, still holding hands.

“You should know,” Yamato begins, careful. “I don’t actually babysit Sai. I watch him because, well, he’s my little brother.”

At this point nothing could slow Kakashi down — but he does stumble.

“Your brother?” he repeats, clearly trying to reconcile Yamato — half Japanese, half Chinese, dark skinned with messy hair and long eyes — with Sai — Japanese, light skinned with perfectly pressed, black hair that pays due deference to gravity instead of jotting off in wild, spiked directions.

“We’re both adopted,” Yamato explains.

This doesn’t help as much as he’d hope, as Kakashi is clever, incredibly clever, easily reaching the next leap in the conversation.

“Your father is Dean Danzō?”

Yamato nods.

“Ah,” Kakashi shakes his head, but doesn’t move away, content to keep his hand in Yamato’s. "And I thought my father was tough.”

Yamato shrugs. It’s difficult to explain his foster family at the best of times, and right now, he doesn’t want to think about what’s difficult; he wants to remember Sai, quiet but always smiling, and try to explain that he understand what it feels like to be afraid of hurting the people you love, especially when they’ve already been hurt so badly.

Kakashi holds Yamato’s hand tighter.

“Is Danzō the one who—”

Yamato shakes his head.

“No. He’s the one who gave me a home.”

Kakashi’s grip loosens, but the two of them feel closer, somehow.

Konoha is a small town. Green Leaf Sweets is visible even a block away, the neon green of its sign announcing itself in the dark. Kakashi takes a deep breath outside, Yamato can’t tell if it’s to quiet his nerves or to protect himself from the smell indoors. Either way, he pushes inside a moment later. Yamato follows at his side, the soft pop music and bright lighting incongruous with their tense shoulders and careful, quiet footsteps.

Green Leaf Sweets is three narrow aisles and one crowded counter, way in the back of the shop. The owner is elderly and prone to taking to naps anytime after six PM; it’s a wonder that more thefts don’t occur, except that everyone loves the old store.

Everyone, save for the man besides him.

The first aisle is chocolates, empty. The second aisle is hard candies and a diverse collection of sour gummy bears; there’s a couple debating between packages, the woman wrapped around her boyfriend’s arm. Kakashi is careful to peer around each corner, as stealthy as a ninja before he rushes forward, clearing the next part of the store. Both his eyes are narrowed, as if he knows what he’ll see before he sees it:

_Naruto_

Crowding the only free space on top of the shop’s counter, legs swinging back and forth as he talks with his hands, bright orange coat still zipped up to his neck, matching orange lollipop in hand. The sleepy shop clerk nods in half-interest even as she smiles at his animated story

The story stops, mid-word, as Naruto locks eyes with Kakashi, breath transformed into a terrified squeak.

Kakashi doesn’t hesitate.

_“Naruto!”_

Naruto screams, scrambling off the counter. Kakashi lets go of Yamato’s hand to dart forward, but Naruto is either just as quick or fueled by some strange combination of pure sugar and rebellion, dashing down the second aisle. Yamato spins, running down the third aisle to cut Naruto off near the door; the couple from aisle two has been pushed flat against the candy shelves, the boyfriend clinging tight to his girlfriend’s arm. Yamato crouches, reaching to grab Naruto, but Naruto lets out something like a battle cry and _jumps_ , pressing his palms atop Yamato’s head and vaulting over his back, fumbling the landing but still running.

 _“Naruto!”_ Kakashi shouts, likely more out of his own frustration than out of any concern for Yamato and his poor head.

“Ha!” Naruto shouts back, throwing open the shop door. Kakashi sprints past Yamato, who is still struggling to regain his balance, slamming the door open with more force than the poor sweets shop deserves. Yamato pushes his weight against the floor, dashing after the two without being certain it’ll be worth the trouble.

“Sorry!” he throws over his shoulder — at the couple or the shop keep or the shop itself?

The snow is falling harder, less peaceful as the night progresses. There are few people still out on the streets, and though Kakashi is pale enough disappear into the night, there’s no mistaking that neon orange jacket as it rounds the next corner. Yamato ignores the burn in his chest, running as if the occasional jog with Yukimi has prepared him in any way for this: what might be the strangest not-quite first date of his life.

“Leave me alone!”

Naruto’s voice is twice the volume of his body, but the space between him and his furious babysitter is closing, fast and faster, as if Kakashi is flying with the ice and snow rather than being slowed by it. Naruto tries to make a hard right, but Kakashi sees the move as easily as Yamato does: without any grace, Kakashi flings himself forward, tackling Naruto into the snowy grass. The two roll together in a blur of orange and blue, both shouting: it’s not so much a fair fight as Kakashi struggling to get a good grip on Naruto, one where the boy can’t hit or kick or bite him. By the time Yamato reaches them, all three are breathing hard, chests heaving.

Yamato leans forward, resting his hands on his knees and struggling to find purchase on the cold air.

“Sorry… hard to… with the binder,” Yamato heaves, gesturing vaguely at his chest.

Kakashi nods, dazed and struggling with the same problem. Naruto is unsympathetic, continuing to flail bravely as his babysitter fights to breathe normally.

“Let me go, stupid!”

Kakashi takes in a slow, controlled breath.

“I’m stupid?” he demands.

Naruto’s blue eyes grow darker, gleaming with the threat of fat tears.

“I hate you!”

Kakashi flinches. Yamato straightens, breathing a short breath in, a longer breath out. Kakashi found Naruto. He was always going to find Naruto, and now this — this is why Yamato is here.

He kneels, eyes level with Naruto’s, the wet snow pressing against his pants leg.

“Naruto,” he begins. Naruto isn’t his little brother, but he is scared, and young, and hurting. “I know you’re upset. You have every right to be upset. When the people who love us are the same ones who hurt us, the pain is worse.”

Naruto sniffs, but he’s stopped struggling in Kakashi’s arms, watching Yamato with his huge blue eyes. Yamato edges closer.

“You know Kakashi loves you just as much as you love him. What he said earlier was a mistake, and even if you’re angry with him, that’s no reason to make your parents worry. When they come home tonight they’re going to want to see you, because they love you. Don’t you want to see them too?”

Naruto is quiet, and then he’s kicking again, flailing against Kakashi with renewed fury.

 _“No!”_ he shouts. “I’m never going home! I’m going to live alone and eat ramen every day and never talk to stupid people ever _again!”_

Yamato winces. So much for being a calming presence.

“Naruto,” Kakashi says. Naruto pushes back with his full weight, nearly toppling Kakashi back into the snow. _“Naruto—”_

Yamato frowns, moving forward, bracing his hands against Kakashi’s knees and leaning in close to Naruto. Naruto instantly stills, shocked Yamato would move so close into the danger zone; Yamato lets his face grow dark and shadowed, watching the color drain from Naruto’s face.

“Naruto,” he warns. “If you don’t stop fighting, apologize to Kakashi, and go home, you’ll never see Pakkun again.”

Naruto stares, eyes wide, and then he begins to tremble.

 _“Nii-chan,”_ he cries. “Nii-chan, why is he so _scary.”_

Kakashi’s arms tense in an instinctive hug, holding Naruto tight against his chest. Yamato leans back, giving the two breathing room.

“I’m sorry,” Kakashi whispers, voice tight and pleading. “I never should have said you deserve to be alone, you’re such a great kid. Minato and Kushina love you, I love you.”

“I’m sorry I ran away, Kaka-chan,” Naruto blubbers; at least, that’s what Yamato hopes he’s blubbering. The young boy has turned away from Yamato, burying his face against Kakashi’s neck. Over Naruto’s head, Kakashi’s eyes meet Yamato’s, nearly as close to tears as Naruto’s. Yamato laughs, his whole body warm and light, smiling at the strange, loving pair as the season’s first snow falls fast and soft around them.

 

/// 

 

“— and that’s when I’ll be bisexual, just like old lady Tsunade!”

Kakashi coughs.

“President. He wants to be College President, just like Tsunade.”

“Yeah!” Naruto agrees, piggyback with his arms crisscrossed around Kakashi. It’s clearly not the first time the correction has been made and lost.

“That sounds very nice,” Yamato says.

“Will you still be here?”

Yamato shakes his head.

“Hopefully not.”

Naruto lets out a large huff of disappointment.

“I’m never going to leave Konoha, except for Oba-chan and the Olympics. I’m going to learn forever!”

Yamato has already been informed of Naruto’s ambition to be a gold medalist in gymnastics — and considering the growing bruise on Yamato’s skull — he has no doubt Naruto will achieve this and every dream that pops into his yellow head.

“Here we are, home sweet home,” Kakashi says, too tired to sound sincere. In a neat, practiced move, he holds Naruto steady with one arm while pulling out a set of house keys, unlocking the door and pushing it open with one knee. Yamato follows the pair indoors, watching Kakashi crouch to deposit Naruto on the ground; it’s quiet, so they must have beat Minato and Kushina home.

“Go wash up and change into your pajamas,” Kakashi tells his small charge. “Then we’ll read one more chapter of _The Gutsy Ninja_.”

Naruto nods fervently, hugging the tearfully returned Pakkun close.

“Will Yama-chan stay, too?”

“Well… your parents didn’t really pay for two babysitters.”

Yamato snorts. Minato and Kushina certainly _got_ two babysitters, not that Yamato is holding his breath for compensation. This is Japanese class all over again, except more physically exhausting.

Naruto pouts, looking up at Yamato and tugging on the edge of Kakashi’s jacket.

“But Yama-chan is coming back, right?” 

Kakashi glances at Yamato.

“I think so,” he answers, soft.

There’s something so warm and earnest in his expression —

Naruto whoops, clapping his hands together and partially smashing Pakkun. Kakashi grins down at the small boy, and Yamato is thankful for the chance to clear away his blush, coughing and pressing a hand against the back of his head.

“See you, Yama-chan!” Naruto shouts, as if they are a full room apart — then he’s gone, a yellow-orange blur pounding up the stairs as if it’s midday instead of late evening. Kakashi sighs, slumping into a slouch, then looks at Yamato from the corner of his eyes.

Yamato feels the blush threatening to return, and so he tries to look very serious to dissuade it.

“You owe me,” he says.

Kakashi blinks slow.

“What… saving a young, energetic man isn’t its own reward?”

Yamato shakes his head, standing firm.

“Not in this weather.”

“Hm,” Kakashi straightens, finally unwinding the scarf from his neck, lazily drifting nearer to Yamato. Yamato clears his throat, eyes darting away and then back to Kakashi: it’s easy to forget how handsome the man is, when he spends all of fall and winter hiding his face away.

“Maybe ramen, then?” Kakashi’s smile is small, but it lights up his whole face —

bright as lightening.

“Or… dipping noodles?” he adds, sharper with mischief. The damn blush wins.

“Ayame was just teasing.”

“I’m not teasing.”

“Kakashi—”

Kakashi rests one hand against Yamato’s jaw as he kisses him, soft and sure. Yamato lets out a strangled groan but he’s kissing back, wrapping both arms around Kakashi’s hips and pulling them close together. They pull back gently and then meet again, and again, and Yamato is so dizzy and light with affection, with the maddening, storm-like joy this man brings, that he nearly misses Kakashi’s next words, half-mouthed against his lips.

“Thank you, Yamato.”

Yamato hesitates, then draws his arm up, resting his hand on the back on Kakashi’s head as he smiles. He wishes he could say that he’d drop everything for anyone, but Kakashi is special.

He’s starting to see that Naruto is, too.

“No lost children on our next date,” he teases.

“Well,” Kakashi grins. “If you insist on counting tonight as our first date.”

“Nii-chan! Hurry _up_!”

Yamato glances up the stairs while Kakashi stays unmoved, content to press closer to Yamato.

“He won’t mind if I’m a little late,” he whispers.

And Yamato, still awful at saying no to Kakashi’s worst ideas, agrees.


End file.
